


Semper Fi - Brothers in Arms

by storyspinner70



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, M/M, Military, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-08
Updated: 2011-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyspinner70/pseuds/storyspinner70
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John's old Marine buddy calls for help, the boys don't even have to consider it before they head out - after all being raised by a Marine is just as good as being a Marine, right? But once they're on a base teeming with fear and suspicion and confronted with soldiers kept on edge and waiting to be shipped overseas, can Sam and Dean focus enough to do their job?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Semper Fi - Brothers in Arms

_**Semper Fi - Brothers in Arms**_  
**Prompt Number:** 1013

  
[](http://lightthesparks.livejournal.com/78379.html)   
**View lightthespark's Amazing Art Masterpost Here**   
  


  
**Pairing or Gen:** Dean/Sam (slash)  
**Main Characters:** Dean, Sam, and OMCs  
**Rating:** R For Language and Mentions of Sex  
**Word Count:** 6,000+  
**Warnings:** Dean and Sam are hunters, but their personalities are slightly AU - they're a bit harder than cannon - you'll see. :D Warning for some language and mentions of Wincest. Tons of creative license taken with how it works in the Marines. :)

 **A/N:** This is my story for the second round of [**spn_reversebang**](http://spn-reversebang.livejournal.com/). I am so pleased I got this prompt. This is some of the most fabulous art I've seen in this fandom. lightthesparks is fabulous! I hope I've done even half justice to her work!

 **Summary:** When John's old Marine buddy calls for help, the boys don't even have to consider it before they head out - after all being raised by a Marine is just as good as being a Marine, right? But once they're on a base teeming with fear and suspicion and confronted with soldiers kept on edge and waiting to be shipped overseas, can Sam and Dean focus enough to do their job?

  
  
**A New Hunt**  


"Get up, Sammy. We gotta roll. We got a hunt."

Sam groaned but rolled out of the bed, pulling on his clothes as he went. "What is it?"

"Friend of dad's. They've got a poltergeist. And not a friendly one, either. Two men have died in three weeks. One more barely got away."

"Good, so there's a witness."

"Not exactly. He got away, but when I said barely, I meant it. He's not even conscious yet. They're not sure when - or if - he'll come around."

Sam grimaced. "Where are we headed?"

"Chocktaw Oklahoma. It's about 10 hours from here. We'll be there by nightfall." Dean smirked at Sam. "If you don't make me stop a million times, that is."

"Shut up and get me some breakfast while I pack us up." There was a moment's silence. "Jerk."

Dean laughed and headed out, bouncing the keys to the Impala on his palm.

  
An hour later, they were on their way to Oklahoma. Sam studied Dean. Something was off.

"So what aren't you telling me?" He asked.

"What? Nothing. Poltergeist, friend of Dad's, Oklahoma. Yeah, that's it."

Sam narrowed his eyes and continued to study Dean. "No, seriously. What are you leaving out?"

Dean sighed. "I"m shocked and appalled you'd suggest such a thing, Sammy."

Sam just arched a brow but refused to be distracted. "Dean."

"ItmightbelocatedonamarinebaseandtheymaybeshippingoutinthenextcoupleofdaysforLibya" Dean muttered.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I beg your pardon?" Dean mimicked then drew a deep breath. "It just so happens that this current hunt of ours is located on a Marine Corps base, and that the hauntings may be sort of exclusively happening to a Unit that is shipping out in the next couple of days for Libya."

"Oh, well. If that's all." Sam seemed shockingly unconcerned.

"What? No bitching, Samantha? I thought for sure I'd have to listen to some major drama from you over having to join the Marines - even if it is only for a couple of days."

"I do not bitch, Dean. That would be you. I merely conscientiously state my objections to bothersome issues."

"Don't spit legalese at me, lawyer boy. No matter how you put it, you whine like a baby that's just lost his rattle when you don't like something."

"Really? Let's see how much you whine when you end up sharing a bed with our duffels instead of me for the next month or so."

"Aww, come on Sammy," Dean wheedled. "I was just kidding." When Sam smiled, Dean spoke again. "So, it really doesn't bother you?"

"Nah. We've practically trained for this our entire lives. We'll probably fit right in."

  
The funny thing about a Marine Corps Unit is this: they're pretty tightly knit. And when you just show up one day and no one has any clue who you are or why you're here? You aren't going to fit right in. In fact, you'll pretty much stand right out.

They arrived late and met with the man that called them - Colonel Nathan Baskin. Colonel Baskin explained what had been happening, a little about the Unit they'd be joining and the fact that no one really knew why they were there. There wasn't time for an actual foolproof backstory, but apparently that wasn't going to be an issue. According to the Colonel, all he had to do was order them to believe and the men would.

Dean raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't comment. Hell, that was pretty much his life up and down. His Dad ordered it, and it was done. Colonel Baskin handed them faked paperwork and IDs to get on the base along with their dogtags. Dean rested his fingertips on the tags resting on his chest. They were cold underneath his skin, and sent a shiver through Dean that had nothing to do with the chill.

Sam laughed when he saw his name: Samuel Campbell. Close enough to almost be true. Colonel Baskin talked to them about their Dad, told them stories of his heroism and his exploits, gave them his sympathies, then left for the base, imploring them to be careful.

The boys stayed in a motel that night, then reported to the base at dawn.

 

  
  
**Day 1**   
  


  
If their welcome was a little chillier than anticipated? Well that was alright with them. Sam ignored the stares and whispers, and Dean dealt with it like he did everything, with a smirk and a laugh.

They'd gotten settled into their new barracks and then suited up and headed to find their new Unit. Soldiers didn't just transfer in to an established Unit without a damn good reason. So far, no one had heard a peep about the reason for the new soldiers in their Unit, so the men were forced to make up their own.

Dean could already see that the Sergeant he was currently staring at was going to be a problem. Sergeant Jack had taken one look at Dean's cocky face and pegged him as someone that needed taken down a notch or two. "Okay, Ladies, we have some new meat for you, today. Winchester! Campbell! Get over here!" Sam jogged to the Sergeant, but Dean leisurely strolled the few steps needed to put him face to face with the Unit they were expected to join.

The 26th Marine Expeditionary Unit - Ground Combat Element was a high level infantry Unit and their training was specific and targeted for an upcoming assignment if they had one, and for general combat practice if they didn't. The training was hard, but significantly less rigorous than recruit training had been.

The men were hard - time worn and edgy - waiting for the call to head overseas that they knew was coming any second now. They spent their time outside of training building a sort of distant camaraderie with the men in their Unit, playing touch football, and wondering what the life they left behind was like and if they'd ever get back to it. Most of the men had been together for years, and the combination of the recent murders, Dean's pretty face and Sam's huge hulking frame brought the men's natural defensiveness clamping down like a steel trap - sealing the edges of the quickly unraveling Unit tight against intruders.

The fact that Sam and Dean seemed like a self-contained Unit of their own did little to help soothe the men. Within hours, it became apparent that Sam and Dean were more like SamAndDean and that much effortless closeness and solidarity led the men nowhere good. They became even more suspicious, and worse, spiteful.

Sam and Dean had dressed this morning in fatigues and t-shirts much to the delight of the other men and the Sergeant. Unbeknownst to Sam and Dean, the day's training was an all day run, and the course was grueling when you had on shorts and tennis shoes. When you were in heavy pants and boots? It was nearly impossible. The men snickered at what was going to come and took off. Sam and Dean kept pace without a problem, used to running in full gear. That was how they trained and what suited them best.

The men were not happy. When the Sergeant called for a break halfway through, Sam and Dean stretched and eyed the men that had collapsed, sweating on the side of the road. Dean glanced back at Sam to see if he was alright, and noticed Sam's shirt was nearly soaked through with sweat, but that he was no more winded or tired than he should be.

"Jesus Christ, Sasquatch. Sweat much?" Dean plucked Sam's shirt from his skin. "Pull that off, man. Let it dry while we rest." Sam snickered but did as he asked. Dean pulled his much drier shirt off and rubbed it over Sam's chest and back, laughing at Sam as he did so. The men stopped digging in their packs and stared.

Sam wasn't just huge, he was built, and Dean was no slouch, either. Thick muscle corded their shoulders, arms, and chests, but it was the scars and bruises that caught everyone's attention.

Sam and Dean hadn't been two days off another hunt before they headed here, and were still suffering the effects. Sam had a bruise that stretched from just below his left nipple around and to the middle of his back where he'd been slammed into a marble graveside monument by an angry ghost. There were two long scratches down the other side of his back, as well.

Dean had needed stitches to close up two wounds he'd suffered when the dead woman's husband came after Dean with a knife to keep him from putting his wife back where she belonged. The wounds were obviously fresh and just as obviously well tended. The men closest to them took stock of these injuries and the numerous scars that stretched between Sam and Dean.

It was obvious now that whatever their reason for being here, it wasn't to play. These men had been in the thick of fighting, that's for certain, and the men of the Unit felt their own impending deployment become even more real. Libya. That must be why Sam and Dean had been sent to them, but what were two obviously experienced soldiers doing in 26th Ground Element? No one seemed to have any idea, but they were determined to find out.

By supper that night, pretty much every Marine in Choctaw had heard about them and their scars, and just about all of them seemed to hate Sam and Dean. They whispered about the supercilious assholes who'd just flown in to Choctaw and then took the place over like they owned it, and Sam and Dean just laughed and joked about paranoid soldiers.

Dean wandered around with his homemade EMF meter until he spotted a high activity spot, and Sam spent a couple of hours in the Colonel's office on his laptop looking for any suspicious deaths in the area. He came up with three likely suspects. Consulting Colonel Baskin, he got all the information the Marines had on these three deaths. When Dean and Sam met back up and explained what they'd found, they found a common denominator - Allie Quantas.

Allie had been a civilian working on the base. She'd been there for six months when her mother called looking for her. She hadn't been home all weekend. When she didn't show for work on Monday, her family called in the police. 24 hours later, she was found hidden in a training field just outside of the barracks. Her body had been mutilated and raped. An investigator had determined that she was probably killed where she lay. The most likely area of her death was right where Dean had seen the most activity with the EMF meter, and the one year anniversary of her death had been a little over a month ago. No one ever found the murderer and papers screamed military cover up.

Satisfied they had the right person, Dean and Sam trudged into their barracks.

All in all, their first day was pretty darn good.

 

  
  
**Day 2**   
  


  
"Alright, Ladies, congregate. It's time to work on our hand to hand." Drill Sergeant Jack barked. "Smith. White. You're up." Dean frowned as the recruits were fitted with pads and a vest. He glanced at Sam who shrugged. As the men sparred, Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes and grin. These people were clueless. If they ever got into a real fight, they'd be destroyed.

"Enough." Sergeant Jack bellowed. "So, Winchester. You think this is funny? How about you go next. Show us what we're doing wrong. James . You're up."

"With all due respect, Drill Sergeant," the emphasis that Dean placed on the words made it clear it was anything but a term of respect. "I wouldn't want to hurt anyone this early on. It's best if you let Sam and I show you what real sparring is all about."

Sergeant Jack cocked an eyebrow at Dean's unheard of arrogance. "Is that so? Don't want to hurt anyone, you say? Well, then, killer, by all means. Campbell! Get suited up!"

Sam spoke up this time. "We don't need pads, Drill Sergeant. Just hampers movement that way."

Sergeant Jack's other eyebrow climbed to join the first at this proclamation. "Well, aren't you just a couple of Special Sallies. By all means, gentlemen, show us how it's done."

Sam and Dean stripped off their t-shirts and prepared to grapple. Dean bent to touch the ground, cracked his neck and back and stretched out his arms. Sam bounced in place, shook his arms out, and rolled his shoulders. As word spread, more and more soldiers joined the crowd, all eager to see at least one of the newcomers humiliated. Please. One of them was going down, and the crowd really didn't care who.

"Bring it, Sammy," Dean practically purred. "I'll even give you first hit."

"Gee, thanks, Dean." Sam snorted. "Like I couldn't just have taken it."

"Don't think your extra four inches and your gigantor arms actually mean anything, Sammy boy. I've beaten your ass before, and I'll do the same now." As they taunted each other, they slowly stalked nearer to each other. Without warning, Sam stepped into Dean's space and punched him hard in the mouth. Dean's head snapped back, and then Dean grinned - teeth red with blood from his split lip. Spitting blood on the ground, Dean growled, "That's my boy."

A moment later, Sam and Dean were fighting in earnest. This was how you spar. This was how you train. The werewolf who's child you just killed would not be pulling punches and worrying about whether you'd be able to sleep comfortably on your side. The wendigo who's late night snack you just snatched from him would not stop to ask if you were alright. They would kill you, then have your heart for breakfast.

Sure, no matter how violent it looks from the outside, Sam and Dean do pull punches. They go all out, but still don't fight each other like they could. But they give it all they can and still look each other in the eye once it's over. They'd never lost it in a training before - never gone over that line and truly started fighting, but the chance was always there. They did the best they could do, and god knows it was better than this shit training the Marines were telling their boys was enough.

Sam jerked back and Dean's fist missed his cheek by a hairsbreadth. Snarling, Sam stepped into the hit instead of jerking away. Grabbing Dean, he swung him, turning Dean's back to his chest, his arm around Dean's shoulder and his hand clamped on his throat. Dean had instinctively puffed up - standing tall and spreading his arms and straightening his shoulders as much as he could. As Sam tightened his hold on Dean's neck, Dean suddenly drew himself back in - shrinking his shoulders in and throwing all his weight down against Sam's hold.

As Dean became essentially dead weight, Sam overbalanced trying to compensate and they tumbled to the ground. Dean was tough enough when they were standing, but once he got Sam on the ground he was merciless. Dean scrambled to push Sam to his back and climb on top of him. Sam fought viciously to make sure that didn't happen. Pushing Dean back he finally worked his boot up enough to kick Dean in the chest and get Dean off him.

Dean's eyes became deadly. They were to the point in their training where it was too late to call it good and stop. Someone was going to submit. It wasn't going to be Sam. Growling at Dean, Sam flicked his hand to his boot. A frenzied murmur went through the crowd as they saw Sam held a knife. Dean's grin became feral. "Oh, yeah, baby. Bring it on."

Drill Sergeant Jack stepped forward to break it up, but Colonel Baskin stopped him. "They're fine." Sergeant Jack raised his eyebrows in doubt, but knew an order when he heard one.

Dean lunged for Sam and grabbed at his wrist. He missed. Sam pulled the knife up, making sure it glinted in the sun where Dean could see it. Dean quickly turned his back and dragged Sam's other arm with him. The hold was so much like Sam had earlier, but just slightly different. Dean was in control here. As he trapped Sam's left arm under his, he turned a bit more and grabbed Sam's right arm, pulling and sliding his hand down Sam's arm until he could reach his wrist. Sam almost pulled away, but Dean's hold was just too strong. Dean began to twist Sam's wrist.

Grunting, Sam gave one last effort, straining and pulling his arm away from Dean. Quickly, he brought the knife down. Gasps rang out as Dean jerked away, but not in time to avoid a slice to his forearm. Dancing out of Sam's reach, Dean barely noticed the sting. Sam grinned like a kid at Christmas.

"Live it up, Sammy. This is just a scratch. Remember last time we did this you had to get thirteen stitches."

"Oh, I remember, Dean. I also remember you digging that needle in a hell of a lot deeper than was necessary when you gave me those thirteen stitches. I think it's time for a little payback."

Dean just grinned. They attacked at almost the same moment, Dean intent on disarming Sam, and Sam intent on inflicting just a little more brotherly justice. Blood and sweat dripped to the ground as the boys fought, and it seemed to go on forever. But then it happened. Sam tired - just a little. It was enough.

Dean saw the tiny drop in Sam's arm and pressed his advantage. Sam, desperate, began to fight in earnest. A few minutes later, Dean held Sam pressed against a fence, Sam's hand that was holding the knife tight in Dean's grip and Dean's revolver pressed to the soft flesh underneath Sam's chin.

Sam spat blood and sweat on the ground and gave. Dean cackled like a maniac. "Damn, right, Sammy, that's what I mean! Fuck, yeah." Throwing his arm around Sam, he continued. "Damn, you almost had me three or four times there, bro. You're getting better."

Sam just smiled and slapped Dean on the back. "I'll get there, dammit."

Dean laughed. They were unaware of the complete silence surrounding them until Sergeant Jack approached them, bellowing. "Well, aren't you just a lovely set of serial killers in training. Thank God you're in my Marine Corps, gentleman. I can't wait to hand you some heavy artillery. Let's step into my office so we can have a little talk about those weapons, shall we? The rest of you - as you were."

Dean could have sworn Sergeant Jack's teeth were going to crack out of his head when Dean informed him they were allowed their weapons and would not be turning them over to the Sergeant, thank you very much. When the Sergeant narrowed his eyes and stood, Dean slouched even farther in his chair, stretching his legs and then crossing his booted feet in front of him.

Sergeant Jack opened his mouth to either call the MPs or blast Dean for his arrogance, but slammed it shut again when Dean uttered one little sentence. "Check with Colonel Baskin." Sergeant Jack practically threw them out the door. Dean had the decency to wait until they were out of earshot before he started laughing. Sam just rolled his eyes and told Dean to quit fooling around so they could get some real work done. They still had to find out why Allie chose the victims she did and where she was buried. Once they had that information, a quick salt and burn would take care of the problem and Dean and Sam could get the hell out of Oklahoma.

Dean looked around furtively, then stepped closer to Sam. "Let's go around back, Sam. What do you say? It's been days, man. Days!"

Sam just rolled his eyes again and hissed, "No, Dean. I'm not fucking around on a Marine base. We'll be in a motel tomorrow night. You can wait that long."

Dean scowled, but stepped away from Sam. "Fine. But don't come crying to me when your cock's hard enough to pound nails and I say, "No, Sam. I'm not fucking around tonight."

Sam laughed, then grabbed Dean's face, smooshing his cheeks between Sam's huge hands. "Don't pout, baby. Daddy's gonna love you up just as soon as we get off this base. Okay, pookie?"

Dean jerked out of Sam's hands and pretended to vomit on the ground. "Daddy? Seriously? Oh my god, Sam. What is wrong with you? Love me up? You've lost it, Sammy boy, and I'm worried about you. Besides. I think you've forgotten, baby, that you're more like the Mommy in this relationship, not Daddy. Remember, Sammy?"

Sam laughed and stalked off. "Fuck you, Dean."

"No, fuck you, Sammy. And I already tried that. You turned me down, remember?" Ignoring the ongoing and blatant stares around them, Dean dropped his hands from his hips and jogged after Sam. "Let's get to work, Sam. I want to get the hell off this Marine Base."

  
Dean made plans to head to the graveyard where Allie was buried while Sam staked out the practice field where she was killed, just to make sure she couldn't claim another victim before Dean had a change to flame broil her bones. As Sam turned to go, Dean grabbed his hand, gave him his patented "If you get hurt I'll beat your ass" glare, the gave him a squeeze as he jogged off the base.

Sam smiled and headed for the field where Allie was found. The last of the sun was disappearing, and it was getting cool. Sam shifted his iron poker and the salt filled sawed off as he waited. Fifteen minutes later, there was a rustling off to his left. For fuck's sake. Couldn't anything around here be easy?

 

Dean paused for a moment, cursing whatever it was that possessed him long enough to lead him to decide that Sam needed to remain at the base. Damn, his back was killing him and it seemed like he'd been digging for hours. Grunting, he got back to work. Minutes later, his shovel thunked against something hard.

"Thank you Jesus," Dean whispered, prying and beating on the coffin. It took him another half hour to get the coffin open and jump from the grave. Suddenly, a cold wind and a shrieking scream warned Dean that Allie was on her way. Quickly, he scrambled for the salt and the gas jug. 

"Sorry, sweetheart," Dean called as he spread salt over Allie's corpse. "This is for your own good. Trust me." As he reached for the gas, Allie appeared before him, screaming in an unworldly, hissing voice as she flew toward him. 

"No! I will get him!" Dean hurried to pour the gas and light the fire that would send Allie to rest. 

"Sorry, sweetheart," Dean called as he dropped the lighter. "I can't let you hurt anyone else."

  
Just before the body was engulfed in flame, Allie began to flicker. "Not all here. Not all there. Not all anywhere. Not all here. Not all there. Not all anywhere." Allie began screaming louder and louder as her corpse burned. "Not all here! Not all there! Not all anywhere!" Stopping abruptly, Alliestared at Dean. "Run, Sammy. Run." 

With a vacant smile, she disappeared.

"Fuck!" Dean scrabbled in his pocket for his cell phone. "Pick up, Sam, pick up. Fuck! Pick up!"

"Dean!" Sam answered. "What's taking so long? She's still here, and she's…" Dean cursed as the phone disconnected.

There must be something else of hers around somewhere. "God dammit! I'm coming Sam!"

Not even waiting for the fire to die down, Dean gathered his tools then floored the Impala on his way back to Sam.

 

  
Sam was used to unhappy ghosts throwing him around when he and Dean tried to burn their bones. Hell, it was pretty common for them - something they grew to expect. That was why he was here to begin with - to make sure Allie wouldn’t try to take one more victim once she found out what Dean was up to.

That's why Allie throwing him around the training field like a rag doll was not a surprise to Sam. What was a surprise though, was that Allie did it with fully formed, flesh and blood hands. Generally speaking, poltergeists by their very nature were not corporeal. When they tossed Sam around, it was with their ghostly power - not their actual strength. Sam was starting to get a bit concerned.

Allie was holding Sam up against a tree, hand clamped to this throat, and mouth wide open in an inhuman scream. Black spots were dancing in front of Sam's eyes. He was clawing at her fingers desperately, when she suddenly disappeared. Gasping for air, Sam dropped to the ground, happy to be alive. 

As he straightened, he noticed several Marines from his Unit standing frozen in the middle of the practice field. Of course. Allie's screaming must have brought them running. Cursing, Sam caught his breath, rubbing his throat. One of the Marines stepped forward. 

"What the fuck was that?" Others grunted their need to know, as well.

"That's what was killing soldiers. That's why Dean and I are here. We came to stop it."

The Marine opened his mouth to answer, but stopped when a freezing wind and a shrieking started. Sam closed his eyes for a second. Jesus, she was back. "Get out of here!" Sam yelled at the Marine. "Your weapons are useless and you'll just end up hurt. I'll handle this. Go!" 

The men were too busy staring at the ghost to listen. Just great. How was Sam going to protect them when they wouldn't fucking leave? Hell, he wasn't even 100% sure what he was protecting them against yet! For not the first time, Sam hated his job.

Dean called Colonel Baskin and let him know what was going on and that if the base wanted to remain standing that the Colonel better make sure Dean didn't have to stop at the checkpoint entrance to the base. Colonel Baskin understood and when Dean turned to enter the base, the guard was waiting for him and waved him through. Dean sped through the base until he slammed to a stop not far from the practice field.

"Sam!" Dean gathered his weapons and ran the rest of the way. "Sam! What's going on? Answer me!" As he cleared the ring of trees around the field, Dean could see Sam crouched in front of Allie's ghost, his back heaving as he tried to breathe. "Fuck! Sam! I'm here!" Glancing around at the gawking Marines, Dean starting barking orders at them. "What the fuck? Don't just stand around! Here! Iron and salt drive them away temporarily! There are some in my duffel! Get them! Thrusting iron pipe and chain at some of the men, Dean screamed at them. "If she comes near you, hit her with the iron or the salt. She'll disappear for a bit." 

Heading over to where Allie was tossing Sam around like a child's toy, Dean bellowed, "Why, hello, sweetheart.Nice to see you again!" Dean raised his sawed off and blasted the ghost. Allie let go of Sam and staggered backwards, but didn't disappear. Dean was shocked for a moment, but quickly recovered.  

"She's…she's corporeal…" Sam rasped out - throat crushed and bruised. Dean dropped his hand to Sam's head and brushed quickly through his hair.  

"Thanks, Sammy. There's got to be something else of hers around here somewhere. Look for it, would you? And get those clowns over there to look, too." Dean stomped toward Allie's screeching form, but then stopped. "Be careful, Sasquatch, eh? Stay out of her way, okay?" 

Sam just rolled his eyes then when to explain to the Marines what was going on and what they were looking for. Dean grunted in the background as Allie threw him into a tree. "Sometime today, Sammy. Not fond of being a chew toy for an angry ghost!" 

"She's not chewing on you, Dean. Don't be so dramatic." Sam joked, but he was concerned. How were they ever going to find a piece of Allie that had been left on a practice field for a year? It seemed hopeless, and the pounding Dean was taking wasn't helping matters, either. 

"Sa-Sam! Duck!" Sam hit the ground as a chunk of tree branch flew over his head, narrowly missing him. "You bitch! You touch my amulet again and I'll send you back to hell myself!" Sam shook his head and continued to search. Suddenly, a Marine ran onto the field, something clutched in his hand. 

"They said it was Allie Quantas and there must be something of hers here. Is it? Is it really?" 

Sam nodded. The man opened his palm. There was a lock of hair there, tied with ribbon. Sam raised his fist in happiness. "Yes! We've got to burn it. Come on!" 

The Marine was staring past Sam. "Allie?" He called. "Allie. It's me, Mark. Don't do this, Allie. Don't let him win." Allie dropped Dean and rushed toward Mark, hands curled and mouth sneering. "Allie. It's me."  

Sam couldn't find his god damned lighter. Keeping one eye on the poltergeist, Sam searched for the lighter, then called to the men in the field. "I need a light. Fuck! Anyone have a light?" 

Ten lighters flew out of pockets and toward Sam. "Thank god!" Sam grabbed a lighter and set fire to the lock of hair, praying it was the last piece of Allie holding her here. The air shimmered around her as she reached for Mark; anger replaced with despair tinged with longing. Mark met her half way, and their fingers brushed. Allie smiled a little then stepped away. A moment later, she burst into flames. 

Sam clapped Mark on the back. "Thanks man. You saved us." Walking over to Dean, Sam helped him up, and they dusted themselves off then turned to the stunned, silent men in the field."Let's go eat," Dean hollered. "I'm starved!"

 

Supper was strained and quiet. About halfway through, Colonel Baskin strode into the mess hall. "26th! Fall in!" The men quickly lined up and Colonel Baskin looked at them solemnly. "You've been called up. You'll be heading out at 0600. Get some rest, boys. It's going to be a long trip." Nodding toward Sam and Dean, Colonel Baskin sketched a fast salute to the men, then turned away and stepped toward Sam and Dean.

"Boys, I can't thank you enough for your help. Your Daddy would have been proud of you. I knew boys raised by Mad Dog Winchester would know how to get the job done." He paused for a moment. "Have you boys ever thought of enlisting? You'd be a major asset for us. I've never seen anyone handle themselves like you boys do - not even your  Daddy. You work together in everything you do. You'd be naturals here."

Dean smiled and said, "I think we're just going to keep doing what we do now, Sir, but thanks. Y'all save the world, and we'll keep out the monsters. How about that?"

Colonel Baskin smiled back. "Of course. Let me know if you ever change your mind. I'll find you a spot anywhere you want to go." Tipping his hat, Colonel Baskin turned and left the hall.

Sam tried to pretend he didn't hear the flat, empty tone to Dean's voice. Tried to pretend he didn't see the longing in Dean's eyes as he watched the men shuffle back to their places. The men poked at their food, despondent now that what they were so afraid of had finally come true. They were headed for Libya in the morning, and chances were not all of them would be coming back. They had known for weeks they were going to be called up, but now that they had their actual orders, the fear that had hovered in the back of their minds became real.

The men were tense and on edge. In one day, they'd found out that ghosts and the supernatural weren't just fantasy, and that they were headed into a war torn nation that didn't really want them there. It wasn't a good day.

The men ate halfheartedly then marched back to the barracks to double check their packs to make sure they were ready for the morning. Sam and Dean packed up, as well.  Dean was silent as the grave - teeth gritted and jaw tight. Sam packed his duffel then stepped over to Dean. He placed his hand on Dean's back.

"Why couldn't we join up, Sam? Think of how many people we could help then. I don't know man. I think we could do it. What do you think?"

"Dean…" Sam started but was cut off…

"Look, we go out and hunt these things, and yeah, that's great and that's important, but who do we save Sam? I mean, what, four or five people? It's not the same, you know? Think of how much good we could do in the military. Hell, we were raised in the life, and practically lived in boot camp. We could…" Dean trailed off as he noticed the men surrounding them.

One man stepped forward. "We weren't very happy when you came here. We didn't know you, and we didn't understand why you were here. With the murders  and the chance we were going to Libya any day, we didn't want to understand, either. We just wanted you gone. But you came here, and you ignored our bullshit and skepticism and our sneering and you saved us. It's hard to say how many more soldiers would have died if you hadn't stepped in." The men nodded and grunted their approval of what the young Marine was saying.

"The Marine Corps would be damn lucky to have you, don't get me wrong. But the world has plenty of soldiers. What we need is more of you."

Sam hung his head for a moment, overcome. Dean stepped up to shake the man's hand, but was stunned with he fell back instead. "Attention!" the man called, and the men snapped to attention. "Salute!"

Dean returned the salutation. The air in the barrack was thick with respect, longing, and fear. Loss hung heavy over the base and there wouldn't be many sleeping tonight. The men relaxed, but remained where they were.

Dean laughed suddenly, "Jesus Christ, Sammy, are you crying?" Sam rolled his eyes and punched Dean as hard as he could in the shoulder. "Ow, bitch! Watch my bruises!" Dean kept up a steady stream of insults and observations, and the men all laughed and eventually joined in.

The tension in the room eased, but Sam knew it was only temporary. These men were leaving tomorrow and they had no idea when or if they'd ever come back. It was humbling. And then Sam looked at Dean. He may not save the world, but Dean never realized exactly how many people he truly did help. Lord knows he'd saved Sam's life on more than one occasion.

As the darkness lightened, the raucous laughter eased. Strain and reality set in as the sun rose slowly in the sky. By six o'clock, Dean and Sam were headed for anywhere and a crew full of men - every one of them strong and brave and good - were headed for their own hunt. This time not against the monster under the bed, but after one arguably more dangerous.

Sam watched Dean out of the corner of his eye, then ran his hand affectionately through Dean's hair. Dean glanced over and smiled. "Get comfy, Sasquatch. We've got a long way to go."

Sam smiled and drifted off to sleep.

 

 

 

 

  
  
**AMAZING ORIGINAL PROMPT:**   
  



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